June Goffe: “You see, son, it’s alright to live in a cocoon like this if you expect to be a butterfly someday. Otherwise. . .”
The striking original one sheet poster for Deadline at Dawn
Sometimes the heat makes us go a little crazy. Likewise, alcohol can have a similar effect. . . pair them both together, and all bets are off. Transporting us into the dog days of summer in the City That Never Sleeps, Deadline at Dawn (1946), directed by Harold Clurman (the only feature made by the legendary stage director), is full of drunken danger.
With perspiration dripping from every pore, baby-face Navy sailor Alex Winkler (Bill Williams) finds himself waking from a nasty bender at a New York City newsstand. . . if that wasn’t bad enough, he discovers a wad of cash that isn’t his and a faint memory of stealing it from loose femme Edna Bartelli (Lola Lane), a slinky blackmailer who’s definitely on the fatale side.
Hitting the streets in a fugue state, he stumbles into a dance hall, where he buys tickets to waltz with a cynical 23 year old, June Goffe (Susan Hayward). Though seemingly uninterested in the fellow (or any, for that matter), he convinces her to go for a bite, then, after filling her in on his hazy memories, they go to return the money. Feeling guilty, what he finds, instead of forgiveness, is Edna’s cold strangled body. . . and an abode in chaotic shambles.
With only a few hours until dawn (when he must board a bus or be considered AWOL), the still barely acquainted couple decide that they must attempt to play amateur sleuths in order to clear his name – their first and only clue, a striking white carnation. Leading to an unusual array of characters, they’ll stumble across Edna’s criminal underbelly brother, Val (Joseph Calleia) – a cheat that is not to be crossed; a hat wearing and letter stealing blonde dame, Nan Raymond (Constance Worth) – who reports to a twitchy individual; a stunning young European woman with a noticeable limp, Helen Robinson (Osa Massen) – who has a rather shady husband; a drunken ballplayer, Babe Dooley (Joe Sawyer – loosely based upon Cubs great Hack Wilson. . . who had a major alcohol problem) – who continuously tries to get the attention of the now dead Edna from the street below; a stalking accordion salesman who has fallen head over heels for dancing June, Edward Honig (Steven Geray) – he’s just become an American citizen; a frantic man with an injured (though previously very talented) cat (Roman Bohnen); Edna’s blind piano playing ex-husband, Sleepy Parsons (Marvin Miller) – who is in desperate need of repayment from her; and an unbelievably helpful cab driver/philosophizing psychiatrist, Gus Hoffman (Paul Lukas) – who gets so caught up in the lives of these two young people that he decides to tag along and try to help solve the mystery. He’s the type of guy who loves to throw out clever and thought-provoking slogans, for example: “the logic you are looking for… the logic is there is no logic. The horror and terror you feel, my dear, comes from being alive. Die, and there is no trouble. Live, and you struggle”.
With more red herrings than a European herring gull (boy, do they like their herring red), what starts as an almost overly complex angle eventually leads to a rather surprising and intriguing multiple twist ending (near impossible to guess thanks to Clifford Odets’ purposely convoluted screenplay – which is adapted from a Cornell Woolrich novel of the same name). Centered on a foggy memory coming from a baby-faced protagonist, his kind heart, caring demeanor, and refreshing naïveté is in constant opposition to nearly everyone else – who either carries with them deep-seated debauchery or chronic cynicism. Enhanced by the unbearable hot summer night, anger simmers just below the skin’s sweaty surface, ready to rear its ugly head at the slightest provocation.
An atmospheric, sweltering noir that will seep into your bloodstream, Deadline at Dawn is steeped with hard boiled dialogue and near undecipherable mystery. Featuring memorable performances from its cast (on top of Hayward and Williams, many are recognizable European RKO contract players), some stunning cinematography from Nicholas Musuraca (Edna’s apartment and staircase leading to it are especially mesmerizing), and a rather creative fly (insect) effect to lead off the movie, this is another example of a classic RKO film noir. So, no need for blackmail, this murder mystery should bring with it plenty of gusto.